


Solitaire

by maya_talbot



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Pandora's Vault Prison, Vilbur, Villain Wilbur Soot, dream and wilbur are both evil as heck, tommy is trapped in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maya_talbot/pseuds/maya_talbot
Summary: Dream brings Wilbur back to life, despite Tommy begging him not to. Wilbur taunts them both in prison.
Kudos: 99





	Solitaire

“Alright, I think it’s my time to go back.” Wilbur placed a hand over his burning forehead as he turned to Schlatt, both standing with their feet in the endless white expanse of the void. “I can feel it coming, Schlatt.” He kept speaking, voice low and gravelly. 

“Yeah?” The ex-tyrant yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “How’s it feel?”

Wilbur hummed under his breath. “It’s itchy under my skin, boiling in my stomach, and my bones are beginning to stretch… I feel tired.” He shuddered and scraped his nails against his arms. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“I didn’t think I’d say this, but,” Schlatt took a couple of steps forward to approach the other. “I might miss you a little, Wilbur, I’ll miss your incessant rambles about that dumb fucking card game…”

Schlatt’s raspy voice was suddenly cut off, and the iridescent rays of vacant light began to grow stronger, brighter than ever before. Wilbur lost balance, wavering in place as the explosion of whiteness mixed with unnamed colours blinded him to oblivion. “Schlatt?” He shouted into the void. The only reply he received was the booming echo of his own voice. A new magnetic pull on his bones and muscles began to tear his body apart, shattering him into a million pieces and cutting through his limbs as they throbbed in anguish - an endless, agonizing pain. It put his brain through a shredder, feeling as if he was a piece of crumpled up paper being stepped on, rolled out, and stepped on again. But he couldn’t scream, as he opened his mouth and there was no sound. No sound, no smell, no touch, just void. Colourless, but vibrant. Sort of like kaleidoscopic vision with non-existent colours. It kept tearing through him no matter how much he begged for it to stop - he thought he’d be lost forever in the nothingness, a space in-between the afterlife and the overworld. 

And then his back hit the ground like a hundred pound weight, leaving his lungs without a single atom of oxygen. He tried to breathe in, but it came out as a helpless wheeze. Falling apart into a violent cough, Wilbur pressed his hands against his chest and forced himself to count his breaths. “Am I alive?” He hoarsely asked, his entire body persistent in trembling. Once he regained air, Wilbur was brave enough to open his eyes. He blinked a couple of times and his vision was damaged with a rotational blur sending him into a bout of motion sickness. “Oh, fuck,” he leaned forwards and a dry gag escaped his throat. A single tear rolled down his pale, marble-white cheek and he tasted its bitterness on his lips. With a final shaky breath, he finally looked up.

“Welcome back,” Dream’s familiar, coffee-scented voice flowed through his ears. 

Wilbur was still lightheaded, and it took him a moment to reply. He felt a radiating, red heat prick his skin. Everything was a lot darker than before, way better to soothe the pulsating migraine wracking his head. “You revived me.” He deadpanned. “I’d already said I didn’t fucking want this. I told Tommy-”

“Tommy begged me not to bring you back, so I had to.” Dream laughed lowly, gesturing at the child curled up in the corner of the prison cell. 

“Hi, Wilbur,” Tommy muttered with a hint of desperation, afraid to look the man in his eyes. Instead, he gazed into the curtain of lava with its looming threat of death and made sure to avoid any contact with the one he used to consider his brother. 

Wilbur’s eyes rolled in the back of his head out of annoyance. For the longest of times they’d spent together in the afterlife, Tommy insisted on pouting and being angry, even skeptical of him the whole time. And Wilbur was, quite frankly, bored of it. “Dream, you know nothing good can come out of my return. I’ve always been an agent of chaos, it’s in my nature. You know what I’m like.”

“Yeah,” Dream couldn’t help but chuckle. “We can wreck this world together. You carry the knowledge of the Universe, and I’m a literal god who can bring people back from the dead! There’s absolutely nothing that can get in our way, Wilbur. Complete control is ours - if you want it, that is.”

“There’s no such a thing as complete control if you have to share it,” Wilbur dusted himself off as he stood up on his shaky legs, shoving his hands in his pockets and gently pacing around the room. His slow steps resonated through Tommy’s mind until the boy had to cover his ears with his hands to block out the tormenting noise. “No totalitarian ruler has ever let a speck of power seep from his iron grip.” He approached Dream, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But  _ sure _ , we can work together,” he said sardonically, a smile of intimidation playing on his lips. His demeanor was coated in icy cold mercilessness. 

Tommy could feel the coldness of his Wilbur’s heart clash with the warmth of lava. He was trapped in this tiny torture box with two of his past tormentors, and there was nothing he could do about it - if he were to end his own life, Dream would keep bringing him back in a perpetual cycle of agony. 

“Wilbur, you fucking bastard,” Tommy wanted to let out a breath, but he remembered Wilbur pointing out how they were always shaky. So he stopped himself. “You’re siding with the person who put me through hell and back.”

Wilbur’s laugh reverberated through the obsidian walls, almost rocking the impenetrable build with the might of his evil. “Me? I’m just here to play solitaire.”


End file.
